


It Must Have Been Love

by ironvell



Category: IT (2017), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Hammock Reddie, Internal Dialogue, M/M, Substance Abuse mentioned, more tags will be added later cause i don’t want to spoil stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 07:49:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20720699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironvell/pseuds/ironvell
Summary: “I didn’t even go to prom.”The second after Richard Tozier had heard this sentence, spoken by so nonchalantly by his first love, he strapped himself into the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime. No refunds, no take backs, he would have to face the entire ride and he’d be lucky if he did not to throw up after it was over.





	It Must Have Been Love

**Author's Note:**

> long story short ever since i first read the book i’ve wanted to write this fic, i waited until chapter two came out to see if i needed to makes some changes but im so happy to finally post it!  
tried to structure it in the book’s style and i really hope you enjoy reading this fic as much as i liked this long process of writing it :)  
this chapter is set during their first night in derry, post jade of the orient

**Richie Tozier wakes up**

1

** _“I didn’t even go to prom.”_ **

The second after Richard Tozier had heard this sentence, spoken by so nonchalantly by his first love in-between bites on their dinner and the other Losers conversations, he strapped himself into the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime. No refunds, no take backs, he would have to face the entire ride and he’d be lucky if he did not to throw up after it was over.

How just how? How did this boy not get invited to the prom?

Even if no one had asked him out, why didn’t dear old Eddie Kaspbrak show up accompanied by his friends? Did the Losers simply not care? Maybe even Eddie stomped his little foot on the ground and decided he wouldn’t.

So many questions rambled around the Tozier’s mind, but no answers dared to be revealed. Tozier’s anxiety kept rising and by the end of the night all the doubts, all the insecurities, the

_guilt_

would eat him alive.

Trash Mouth, lying on the bed of the most...”modest” hotels he had stepped inside ever since his career took off. He could hear the wooden clock, hung in the room’s shitty wallpaper stamp, ticking nonstop. Each tick would bring a new flash of his long gone youth.

If his thoughts were already a mess way before he got Mike Hanlon’s phonecall, reminding him of all the unconventional events he went though, right now the fast-thinking, quick-witted brain was a utter shitstorm. New information entering it every second, almost like a disease, and Richie felt like a parasite on his own body, begging to give all that responsibility back to the freckled face bastard he once was.

A storm. Each thunder stroke a moment from his glory days in Derry.

But he wouldn’t mind getting caught in rain or that disastrous storm if it meant being stuck with Eddie. Whenever they were together he could sense lightning, thunder and electricity mixing in together, deep inside him. On a second thought, Kaspbrak would never allow them to get caught in the rain. Eddie letting his friends get sick? No way, José. No, no...He

2

heard fast-paced steps above him. The ceiling was bumping and shaking, Richie was hoping there wouldn’t be any leaks and whomever was out there was as careful as one could be when there’s a big storm and nearly-deafening thunders happening outside.

Tozier lowered the volume on his small radio, attempting to hear the voice that was swearing uncontrollably while trying to get inside.

The rain started around 5pm and around 5:15pm Richie realized it was too late to go home. But he didn’t mind. That meant he would have the whole clubhouse for himself.

Stan had showed up earlier, around 2pm, but left as soon as he grew tired of Tozier’s jokes and his famous “voices”.

He spent practically the whole day long on the Losers Club hideout, reading, singing and perfecting his voices. It was certainly the most amount of time he’d spent underground and by 6pm wondered if he’d be the first one between his friends to sleep there.

Whoever was entering the clubhouse would be the one to determine it.

The trapdoor was opened and rain drops began to fall on the dirt floor, but the intruder closed it with a loud bang and fell down as graciously as one does when escaping from a massive rainstorm outside.

Tozier abandoned his slouchy posture and sat on the hammock, lowering his comic book. He removed his glasses, always so dirty, cleaning the smudges of the lenses on his beloved palm tree Hawaiian shirt. Once he put them back up again, he found the only and only Eddie Kaspbrak, soaking wet in front of him.

\- Spaghetti Man! - Richie exclaimed, in what he thought was a Italian accent. - What brings-a you here, my boy? This is a place for the mafiosos! Ah, look at him! - he said, turning to an imaginary mobster. - He took a shower and forgot to-

\- Shut up! - the shorter boy shook his head, his chocolate hair splashing water around the clubhouse. - Do you have any idea what’s going on out there? It looks like Armageddon, or, or a new plague! 

\- Sometimes all angels decide to pee at the same time, Eddie boy, I guarantee it’s complete natural-

\- I know what rain is and it’s not some dumb joke you read somewhere, shithead. - he complained, drying himself with an old stitched up towel, probably abandoned there by Beverly or Stan.

\- Read it somewhere? - Richie gasped loudly, putting a hand on his own chest, followed by.a a snort. - No, no, señor! Soy original! Soy mucho-

\- I told you to shut up! - Eddie blushed, looking oh-so-cute while angry. Richie decided to keep his trash mouth shut this time.

The poor boy, always concerned with the locations his friends chose to play at, making sure there wouldn’t be any rusty nails or places they could potentially slip and break a bone. The brunette boy that was always looking out for everyone else, on the verge of tears. He must’ve left to pick up some new medicine Sonia decided to stuff his guts and brains with this time around

_or maybe he was on his way to the clubhouse_

and panicked due to the rain.

\- Do you need some help? - Tozier asked, his lips pressed so tightly they were white.

\- Haha, that’s hilarious, Mr. Comedy Man. - Eddie dried himself, without looking at his friend.

\- No, I... - he hesitated, looking around the clubhouse while his brain attempted to come up with a coherent phrase. - I’m being serious. Is there anything I can do to help you?

Kaspbrak stared at him, a skeptic look that the older boy felt was looking through him. Richie, incredible as it may seem, actually had stopped joking around for a minute. Eddie never would’ve admitted it, but he could feel honesty and compassion behind those magnifying lenses Richie called glasses. The taller boy was even holding back from smiling. Not the usual one, where his front teeth projected and was followed by a howling laughter. But a gentle smiling instead.

\- Thanks, but I’m good. - the hypochondriac nodded, continuing to use the fabric to clean himself off. - I can take care of myself.

Richie’s freckled cheeks blushes with embarrassment as he buried his face into the first comic his shaking hands picked up. He tried so hard to forget Kaspbrak was there, eventually getting lost on the story happening in the pages. He heard the towel being tossed to one of the chairs and the smaller boy leaving footsteps on the dirt floor.

_Don’t think about him, don’t say it, don’t you dare to open that trash mouth of yours, it’s not worth it. Let’s stay quiet, won’t we? Beep beep, Richie. That’s right, Tozier, you can make it, keep it together, we’re going well. He’ll probably take a comic from our collection or some dumb thing to distract himself. Relax, don’t think about him, don’t think, don’t... Ah, shit, his lungs!_

Richie hadn’t spotted anywhere Mr. Keene’s pharmacy plastic bag when Eddie arrived. The boy probably didn’t even get the chance to step inside the store, or maybe he had but dropped the bag while escaping from the storm. He wasn’t sure if Eddie’s emergency lung sucker was still in the clubhouse.

_He was soaking wet! He caught so much rain and was unprotected, he could get an asthma attack! Here you we go, the neurotic Kaspbrak mindset is kicking in, that’s what you get for spending so much time with him! But what if something does happen with Eddie and I can’t help him? After all, it’s just the two of us down here, I don’t have the mini medical training that he has! Would mouth-to-mouth do anything? Or will I have to improvise a defribilator?_

Without a second go process any other information, Tozier got up from the hammock and quickly took off his Hawaiian shirt. He let out a small noise, prompting the younger boy to twist his head on his direction.

\- Huh?

\- Take it. - Tozier extended his arm, holding the shirt. Eddie raised an eyebrow, still confused. - I know it won’t help much, since it’s sleeve is kinda short, but you need to put it on. - the taller boy started to walk towards the hypochondriac, and the latter stood still, in awe of his friend’s attitude.

\- It’s your favorite shirt, Richie, I can’t...

\- That doesn’t matter right now. - he shook his head

The boys were now standing in front of each other, Tozier holding the shirt with a tight grip as Eddie’s mouth was semi open.

\- Your lungs, man. I don’t want you to get sick. - it was almost like Richie was begging him. Eddie only started at his friend, looking tired and trying to crack the code of what was going on inside his mind.

_Eddie, I can’t see you sick, not when I could’ve done something to help, come on, buddy, I can still help you, stop being so stubborn and put the stupid shirt on._

\- Ok. - he finally surrendered. - But for your information, I’d never wear one of your stupid Hawaiian shirts.

\- You’d look cute in them. - Richie snorted, the shorter boy allowed himself to smile as well.

Eddie extended his hand to grab the shirt and for a brief moment, it came in contact with the dark haired boy’s one. Tozier felt the storm of feelings rush inside of him. Kaspbrak dressed himself, softening some regions of the fabric. Richie allowed himself to fix the sleeves and gave two light taps on his friend’s shoulder.

\- Master Kaspbrak, you look oh-so-ready for the ball tonight. - he said, in his English butler voice. Eddie only smiled.

\- Are you still going home tonight? - he anxiously stared at his watch. It was past 7pm.

\- It depends on this stupid rain. - Trash Mouth sighed, throwing himself on the hammock, continuing to read his comic book. - Although I wouldn’t mind to stay here.

\- I’m afraid it might flood.

\- Ben knew what he was doing, dude. He built this place to be a freakin’ anti-stress fortress. How many times have people walked above us and didn’t even notice this place? Bill says it’s almost as it has some sort of protecti-

\- Richie, I... - the shorter boy looked at the clubhouse’s “ceiling”. - I’m scared.

Richie lifted his face from the comic book. This time Eddie really looked like he was in the verge of tears, his legs were trembling and he was almost hiding his face.

\- Of... of the storm? - he asked, expressing concern on his voice. The asthmatic nodded. 

Tozier got up as quickly as he did while throwing himself on the hammock, approaching the younger boy. He took a deep breath and got the courage to hug his friend, letting Eddie rest his face on his shoulder.

\- Come on, Eds. We’re not gonna drown in here, if that’s what you’re thinking! I’m here for you, it’s okay. - Richie held him tighter, hearing his friend sob. - You’re safe with me.

\- Thanks, Richie. - he raised his face and smiled. Tozier couldn’t help to gaze at his little freckles, his lips, his eyelashes...

_How the fuck can someone look so beautiful after crying?_

\- It’s just a stupid rain. - he nodded. - A bit heavy, yes, but not as much as your mom. - Richie laughed, letting out that good ol’ laugh that bothered everyone in the Losers Club. But not Eddie... not Eddie.

A Asshole. - he lightly punched Richie’s shoulder. The older boy grabbed his hands and guided him to the hammock. 

They sat down, this time side by side and despite the how tight it was, they felt comfortable.

_Don’t touch his cheek, don’t fix his hair and for the love of God don’t open that trash mouth of yours. Don’t touch him._

Until Eddie rested his head on his chest, snuggling up.

The clubhouse was in complete and total silence, except for the loud and angry storm happening outside and the music tenderly coming out of Richie’s radio.

**It must have been love but it’s over now.**

**It must have been good but I lost it somehow.**

**It must have been love but it’s over now.**

**From the moment we touched, ‘til the time had run out.**

It was nice. It was pleasant, it was right, it was safe, it was...home. Their legs were touching each other and the boys childishly fought to see which foot would be above the other, on some sort of tower, laughing weakly. It was almost like they had signed a contract, connected

_R + E_

by the absolute silence.

Eddie fell asleep in a matter of minutes, smiling, while Richie

3

frantically searched through his duffle bag, searching for sleeping pills. He forgot to buy them on his trip to the pharmacy.

_Fuckin’ incompetent fuck._

He thought about taking one or two drinks from the minibar but decided not to. He threw himself on the bed, burying his face on the pillow. Time went by and Richard twitched on the bed, trying to come up with new positions to fall asleep. Maybe if he got tired enough his body would surrender to the sleep. But it didn’t, his mind was uneasy. Every second another memory arrived, torturing him even more. The comfort of the mattress would never compare to their hammock and the soft touches provided by Eddie.

_Can’t sleep, can’t sleep, can’t fucking sleep, fuck! It’s my fault._

Eddie Kaspbrak...When Trash Mouth was learning to ride his bike without training wheels, he fell down, scraped his knees and broke his glasses. Eddie was always there

_You weren’t._

to fix him up.

_Just sleep. Señor Cerebro, no mas! Turn that fucking switch off and let me sleep._

The little shit with hair always parted impeccably, wearing short shorts without worries, making Tozier completely flustered, making his freckled cheeks turn a bright red and provoking growth on his pants.

_Don’t think about him, don’t think how_

How he didn’t get a chance to pick a suit for the prom.

_Yours was blue, remember? You spilled the spiced grape punch in it. You were going to blackout that night. You had the time of your life at your school while Eddie was probably at home._

Or to brush his perfect shiny hair. Or trying on different suits and shoes until he found the ideal match.

_Don’t think. You can’t think about him, not now that he’s_

Mr. Edward Kaspbrak, who had to wear suits and ties to work. Mr. Kaspbrak has his big car, his important career as a risk analyst, probably had tons of benefits thanks to the job and his wife.

_his fucking wife._

If he had been lucky enough to have his wife right now, why didn’t the other teenagers invite him?

It’s not like he was bad looking, no way, José. He had soft and tender features. As awful as Sonia Kaspbrak was, at least she helped crafting the most beautiful human being Richie had ever seen. The worst part of it all was how handsome Eddie was all grown up. Sure, he looked older and a bit stressed, probably because of the job, but still looked like that 13-year-old boy Richie knew. The second Tozier saw his old flame at the restaurant, it provoked all those thunderous feelings he felt as a teenager and he expected not to throw up until the end of the night.

_Shut up, no._

Those sweet features, even from a younger age showing his neurotic yet tender self. That childhood sketch that later on would get paint strokes from his life experiences, until perfecting the work of art that Edward Kaspbrak was.

_Don’t think about him, don’t you dare. You can’t let him know of your_

It was just the two of them. Richie and Eddie, Eddie and Richie...

_R + E_

In the afternoons where the sun didn’t mind to go down a bit later, allowing the boys to laugh and play on Derry’s fields, giving them a false sense of hope that they would be inseparable.

Their “inseparable” didn’t happen

_Why did you have to move? You tried to tell mom and dad how happy you were here..._

but they were together once again, R + E, and Tozier planned never letting go of Eddie. Never again, they already spent this long road of 27 years apart and that was over. Now, the comedian wouldn’t stand spending 27 seconds without him, without his nervous ticks, his eyelashes, his perfectly parted hair.

There were uncertainties about what would happen after Derry. Whichever was the Losers Club fate, Richie thought, no, he knew that Edward Kaspbrak was his.

He spent nearly three decades feeling incomplete, knowing that he craved something, someone and that his brain didn’t let him access that foggy section that was his childhood. But he’d find a way. His Los Angeles mansion didn’t matter. He’d always have to come back to Derry, back home and he had found home again in Eddie.

He had to act, wasn’t sure if he could or should, but he had to something now. Otherwise, he’d spend this and every single night for the rest of his life without falling asleep. With no more delays, it was now or never.

He rose from the bed and grabbed his jacket. He went through his duffle bag and put on his pockets what he thought he would need. The comedian stood in front of the mirror and stared at himself.

_You can do it, motherfucker. You’re Richie fucking Tozier, come on, you asshole!_

\- Richie fucking Tozier. - to each word, he gave a small slap to his cheeks.

Staring at himself one more time, thinking about how he wouldn’t have dared to do this 27 years ago. He fixed his outfit and his hair, putting on his shoes.

_You’ve sold-out shows, went to talk shows drunk and did your stupid voices and made the host and the audience laugh their balls off, partied with so much coke you couldn’t feel your nose for three days, don’t panic!_

He didn’t have to panic, not anymore. It was his chance and he better not fuck it up. If he had faced a psychotic clown 27 years ago, he could do anything.

He glanced at the mini bar, only to look at the desk and saw a basket with champagne in it. Had that been in there before? Didn’t matter, not now. No fucks left to give.

He nodded uncontrollably before looking at himself one last time. He smiled, with the same confidence that a 13-year-old boy had during that stormy night.

_-_ Richie fucking Tozier. 

And went to Eddie’s room.

**Author's Note:**

> for the sake of the story let’s pretend this song came out in 1989 nshsjaaj
> 
> thank you so much for reading! i deeply appreciate it and can’t wait to post the following chapter(s) :)


End file.
